“I should think it would be,” mused Stuart. “I think I’d rather coach football than be a lawyer, anyway.”
“It doesn’t lead very far, though. I hope that I’ll be in a position to drop it after another two years. Meanwhile, I’d rather stay here than look for a new place. Next year ought to see a whale of a team here. Look at the material we’ll have: you and Hanson and Thurston and Burns and Tasker—no end of good players. Why, we can start with practically a veteran team! And we’ve laid a good foundation this fall, Harven: we’ve got a system at work. Whoever has the job of coaching next fall will have a cinch!”
“You bet! We’ve got some corking second-string fellows, too, Mr. Haynes: Lowe and Leonard and—and Thompson—”
“And Irmo. He has the making of a fine center. And we’d be pretty well fixed for guards with Beeman and Le Gette. Le Gette played a fine game yesterday. And if it hadn’t been for his field goal we’d have lost. I want you to know, Harven, that I certainly appreciate the work you did with Le Gette. I don’t believe another chap on the squad could have taught him what you did in that short time.”
“He was a mighty good learner,” said Stuart warmly. “You simply couldn’t tire him! Lots of times I’d want to quit and he’d keep me at it. With Le Gette kicking field goals next year we’d ought to be pretty well fixed.”
“Yes, but I’m hoping you’ll share that duty with him,” said the coach.
“Well, I don’t know,” murmured Stuart. “If you don’t come back——”
He stopped suddenly and felt the blood creeping into his cheeks and, to hide his hideous embarrassment, jumped to his feet.
“I must be getting back,” he said. “Neil will think I’m lost or—or something!”
“Must you? Well, I’m glad you dropped in. Do it again before I go, won’t you? I’m sticking around until the last of the week. Oh, by the way,” he continued as they shook hands, “wasn’t there something you wanted to say to me after the season was over?”